


Prison Break

by BlackBat09



Series: color cut clarity carat cold [2]
Category: The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Comic Book Science, Gen, The Rogues (DCU) As Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 14:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBat09/pseuds/BlackBat09
Summary: Just because the Rogues stay in Iron Heights doesn't mean they've forgotten how to plan a breakout.





	Prison Break

**Author's Note:**

> Aaand finally, part two, the wrap on this little plot!

Ten keys.

Not all of them are useful, not to Len, but the weight of them in his fingers is grounding, even more so than his gun strapped to his thigh. Barry had been aghast, of course, when Don and Dawn brought them to Len, but now Len wonders if they hadn’t known, somehow, that he’d need them. If it was really just a coincidence, or if it was something  _more_. He hadn’t bothered asking, just thanked them softly, again and again, and promised he was getting their dad back.

Sam and Marc follow him up through the abandoned hospital wing to Iron Heights proper, surveying the cells around them as prisoners start to stir. Their time is limited; even with Barry playing along, Papercut and Folded Man can only keep him occupied for so long; so Len gets to work.

Blacksmith stays where she’s at- Len doesn’t have  _time_  to butt heads with Miss New Rogues, nor the patience to try and rein in her chaos. Murmur doesn’t get a second glance, either- he needs a breakout team, not a mass murderer.

The first person Len lets out is Girder, and it’s clear that it’s not out of any goodwill. He locks eyes with Woodward as he opens the door, breaking the airtight seal of his cell and watching the agony crawl across the metal man’s face. “ _Snart_ ,” he creaks, lurching towards him, but Len keeps moving, letting Sam and Marc push the iron golem towards the Pipeline security that’s surely on its way. If he rusts away, good fucking riddance. Len has no sympathy for a rapist.

Abra Kadabra and Plunder both get passed over, Kadabra briefly meeting his eyes to sneer at him. The 34th century man has thrown in with the Light, and Len wants nothing to do with them, certainly not in a position where he’d be indebted to the shady fucks. He’ll get his people without throwing in with the death cult that nearly handed the world to aliens, thanks.

Plunder- well, Morillo’s just useless.

Len slows at Doctor Alchemy’s cell, rapping lightly at the door to draw his attention from his book. “Desmond.”

“Snart,” Alchemy replies, finger holding his page as he shuts his book briefly. “To what do I owe the honor.”

“Was wonderin’ if you were lookin’ to take a walk,” he suggests, and, while Alchemy sighs, he doesn’t go back to his book just yet.

“And what would incentivize this… walk, Leonard?”

He smiles, briefly. “Flasher’s takin’ it kinda hard over in the city proper. Heard Magenta was gettin’ called in to reinforce him.”

“How  _is_ Miss Kane?”

“One way to find out.”

Albert considers Len for another long moment before fully setting aside his book. “I think I’d like that.”

Len nods, unlocking the cell and lobbing the Philosopher’s Stone at Desmond underhand, the Heights-issued version of his costume melting from where it meets his glove outwards. Once he’s  _really_  dressed, Alchemy nods regally, striding past Len into the hall.

“Head for the abandoned hospital wing. There’s a tunnel out. And don’t let Girder follow ya, if you don’t mind?” Len suggests, chuckling as Alchemy makes a familiar face at the mention of Woodward.

“Certainly not,” he mutters, reaching out to touch Len’s parka lightly. “Tell your family, when you see them next, that I said hello.”

A nod satisfies him, and he turns to leave, slipping past Sam and Marc as they rejoin Len, past where Girder is engaging the Pipeline guards, and towards the exit.

Peek-a-boo is next, curled up in her cell with her knees to her chest, and Len knocks again, gentle, to get her attention.

“Lashawn?”

“Whatever you’re sellin’, I’m not buying,” she snaps, pulling in tighter on herself, and he sighs.

“Your pop’s at the top’a the transplant list. I figured you’d wanna get out to see him.”

 _That_  catches her attention and she stands, slowly, arms still wrapped around her torso. “What’s in it for you?”

“You see your family, I see mine.”

Len can see the doubt, can’t even blame her for it. She’s a good kid. “And after?”

“After, I got papers for you. Clean identity. You can get yourself back to school, see your dad every now and then- no strings attached. Even see what we can do about that metagene of yours.”

If she turns him down, Len’s willing to move on- it’ll suck, but he is. He figured he should at least give it a shot, though.

“ _One_  job,” Lashawn tells him, and he nods.

“One job, kid,” he agrees, unlocking her cell and giving her a wide berth to exit, Sam passing over her confiscated gear as their group keeps moving.

He doesn’t have a key for the final cell he stops in front of, and both Sam and Marc make disgusted little sounds, but they know they’re desperate. No one says a word, all regarding each other warily from across the glass.

“Your boyfriend know you’re here, Snart?” August asks casually, too casually, and Len doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“The Feds shoved my people in a swamp to rot. You wanna help me help them, or you gonna sit here and twiddle your thumbs like you couldn’t leave whenever the hell you want,” Len challenges, and the spark of lightning in Heart’s eye tells him all he needs to know.

“You letting me out or not?”

Scudder fires off a shot into the glass of August’s cell and steps through, reaching to grab the speedster by the wrist and yank him through into the hall with the rest. August raises his brows and tilts his head a little, obviously offering his collared throat for Len to do something about.

He makes an indignant noise when Len turns away. “Hey,  _cabrón,_  forgetting something?” Heart calls, and Len would ignore him if not for the fact that he doesn’t hear his feet moving.

“I’ll take it off when we get where we’re goin’.”

That doesn’t make August any happier. “Really? Someone touches Baez and she blows, and you’re more worried about keeping  _me_  under wraps?”

Lashawn doesn’t look impressed by being dragged into this, and Len can hardly blame her, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking directly at Heart. “Baez hasn’t, to my knowledge, expressed interest in  _killing me_  before.”

The staredown lasts a good dozen seconds longer than Len would like, but, finally, August shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Marc snorts and Sam doesn’t bother hiding his grin as Len turns away again.

The screech of metal follows them out through the abandoned hospital wing and the tunnels- the screech, and the bellow of Tony Woodward in pain.

Maybe it says something about Len that he doesn’t even flinch.

They leave the Heights behind them, the sounds of fighting ahead in Central proper as Booker and Edwin keep Barry “occupied,” but the group turns towards Keystone instead, to one of Sam’s personal hideouts. He’s obviously still put out by bringing August, glancing over his shoulder with a slight sneer as he unlocks the door of the warehouse and hustles everyone inside and down to the basement.

One whole wall is covered in a mirror, and Len stares up at it as he waits for Sam to lock up and come downstairs, ignoring the heavy silence of their guests until Sam steps into his peripherals.

“Alright.” He turns, setting out the map of Belle Reve, created from his own stay and the twins’ memories, marked with guard towers, security cameras, and any other notes Len had deemed necessary, and begins laying out the plan.

* * *

 

Len counts down on his fingers and then signals for them to go, emerging simultaneously from four panes of glass on Belle Reve’s outer guard towers to take out all of them at once. It goes down without a hitch- Len can hear it over his earpiece, the quick confirmations from the others- and he looks out the window to see the dark clouds over the prison growing even darker, heavy with rain that starts to fall over the outer courtyard. There’s a ripple of unhappiness in the guards in the yard, noises of complaint coming over the tower radio, and they let it go on for a while before Marc increases the storm further, the distant first flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder signalling them to come down from the tower and meet.

When they’re in one place, he pulls one of Lisa’s devices from his pocket- his sister’s damn brilliant, not that Len didn’t already know- and deactivates August’s collar, scooping it up and shoving into an inner pocket of his parka. Heart’s whole body  _crackles_  with the familiar static of the Speed Force that makes Len’s hair stand up and his lichtenburg scar itch.

“Wizard. Give him a jump,” Len instructs, and both men glance at him, Marc in concern and Heart in confusion.

“You sure about that?” He nods, and Marc blows out a sigh, taking a moment to focus, eyes shut, more lightning streaking through the clouds over the prison to hide what he’ll do next.

Heart doesn’t look reassured. “What do you mean, a  _jump_?” he asks, and Len can hear the tremor in his voice, used to hearing it when Barry’s stressed, the way he vibrates, trying not to just bolt.

“My wand manipulates electron fields,” Marc murmurs, opening his eyes- they, too, spark and glow with lightning, bright blue, and Len sees Lashawn step back in the corner of his eye. “I can turn potential energy into kinetic- what you speedsters run on. It’ll put you on top of your game,  _chabón_.”

“M’already on top of my game,” Heart argues, but his interest is pretty obvious, and he takes a breath, glancing up and waiting for the next strike of lightning to let the Speed Force come over him, materializing his bright costume in a flash of white-gold lightning. His voice vibrates more now,  _Godspeed’s_  voice instead of August’s, and his gold lenses land on Marc. “Hit me.”

For the first time since Len suggested this, Marc actually grins- he can’t help being eager, and Len knows he’s been dying to test this theory for ages- and raises his wand, shocking August with the next lightning strike, blue mixing with Godspeed’s white until the speedster’s edges blur, glowing unearthly and wreathed with static. Lowering the wand again, Marc’s eyes return to normal, still grinning as he steps back.

“You alright, Godspeed?” His head moves- a nod, maybe?- and one speedster becomes two becomes  _three,_  and oh, Len hopes this wasn’t a mistake.

“Never better, Snart,” one of them answers, and Len nods curtly.

“You know your role.” All three move their heads- yeah, it’s gotta be a nod- and wait for the next crack of lightning to take off into the yard, disarming guards and knocking them out with a speed and precision that Len would take a moment to admire if he weren’t focused on the job. “Mirror Master, cameras. Wizard, storm. Boo, on me.”

They break, fluid, determined, and Len feels a pang of longing for the old days, when a small team like this would’ve been him, Mick, Lise, Sam, and Digger, just the five of them against anyone who got in their way. It’s so sudden that Len’s pace falters and Lashawn spares him a glance, but he waves her on, pulling the cold gun from its holster and powering it up as they pass the crumpled forms of guards, their dismantled weapons scattered in the mud.

He freezes his heart just like he does the prison wall, watching frost creep over the thick concrete as the beam of his gun reflects in his and Lashawn’s goggles until he releases the trigger, stepping back even further to let Baez do her part.

Standing close but not too close to the frozen wall, Baez shuts her eyes and teleports, the explosion sending brittle chunks of concrete flying through the air. A crack of thunder follows, and Len squints to see through the blinding explosion and the glow of lightning- Godspeed is there, one of him, at least, knocking aside shrapnel in a circle around Len and Lashawn and glancing over his shoulder when he’s done.

“Don’t get yourself killed. Barry would kick my ass,” he tells Len, and it almost seems like a  _joke,_  before he bolts again, leaving the duo to get back to their job.

Once the wall is down and Sam confirms he has control of the cameras, two of Godspeed dart ahead into Belle Reve, the clank of turrets and power suit pieces followed by the thump of unconscious bodies as Marc, Lashawn, a third August, and Len make their way in. Sam emerges from the dull shine of a polished metal “mirror,” making a face but not complaining as they head through the halls.

“How’s it lookin’?”

“Deadshot, Plastique, Frost, Bronze Tiger, and the Shark,” Sam relays grimly.

“We couldn’t have gotten any  _less_?” Len grouses, the dull throb of a headache starting at the back of his skull. This is going to  _suck_ , but they’re going to do it. They have to. “If Waller lets Task Force X out, Heart, you’re on Bronze Tiger. He’s one of Waller’s enforcers on the team- least likely to listen to reason. Master martial artist, so watch yourself.” Heart nods and is off to help his doubles.

“Nanue shouldn’t be hard. Great whites fall into hibernation under a certain temperature, it’s just a matter of getting him there,” he murmurs, hand on the cold gun. “Peek-a-boo, I want you on Killer Frost. She needs to touch people to absorb heat-”

“-And touching me’s a bad idea,” Lashawn finishes. Not a hard conclusion to come to, but it still makes Len smirk when she does. “Got it.”

“Wizard-”

“Plastique,” Marc volunteers. “Same trick as Heart on her explosions.”

“I got Lawton,” Sam rounds out. “Wiz and I are gonna head for Glider and Top.”

Len nods and they split off to head for the thick glass that separates the two halves of the prison’s indoor exercise area, to the other side where the other Rogues await them. Lashawn keeps pace with Len, no longer faltering as he gets closer to his husband, freezing over unconscious guards to keep them down if they wake up before the job is done. It’s only when a bullet hits the ground in front of his feet that he stops his determined march, hearing Lashawn gasp as she nearly runs into him and hastily stumbles back, trying not to blow while Len searches for the source.

Deadshot waves down at him from a guard post and Len sneers.

“Hey, Snart.”

“Whataya want, Lawton, I ain’t got the time,” he snaps back, voice cracking like ice against the concrete walls, and Lawton raises his hands in innocence, showing that his finger’s off his trigger.

“The Wall was pissed you got to Boomer’s corpse before her. Could’ve been real useful to her,” Lawton drawls, and Len could shoot him, here and now, he really could.

“She wasn’t about to desecrate one of my people’s bodies.”

Lowering his hands again, Deadshot leans against the low wall in front of him, gun dangling in a loose grip that Len knows says nothing about how dangerous he is right now. “I know, Snart. I know.” He searches for his words, and, for once in the conversation, he seems sincere. “I’m glad she didn’t get him, either.”

Len eyes him for a long moment before Lawton nods, flicking on his safety and shoving his gun in the waistband of his prison orange. “My people and me didn’t see a thing. Never encountered you. Go get your family.”

Nodding back, Len gestures for Lashawn to follow, deeper into the prison until they reach the cell block, people gathering curiously at their doors, murmurs getting louder when they realize who and what this is.

Cries of “Cold” or “Snart” are ignored- voices he hardly recognizes or doesn’t care about, no, he’s not here for  _them_ \- no, it’s the first tentative, tired call of “Lenny?” that grabs his attention.

“ _Motek_ ,” Len breathes, and he’s at Mick’s cell in an instant, the bruises on his skin and under his eyes making Len’s heart ache, but the little smile he gives Len- god, he’s missed it. “Step back, Mickey.”

He does, his cellie taken back with him by a strong, scarred arm, and Len freezes the cell door, kicking one of the icy bars to watch the whole damn thing crumble.

Mick rushes him for a kiss, and Len grips him even as Mick shivers, even as the prison jeers and yells around them.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asks his husband when he pulls away, and Mick goes from lovey to his game face, confident strides leading Len to the other two Rogues scattered among the prisoners, each of them freed, collars deactivated, and joining the pack, their cellmates left to do as they please.

Len doesn’t stop them from going for the guards, embracing Hartley and muttering  _my boy_  into his long hair before bringing Roy in, too, slapping his back heartily as he lets go.

“Couldn’ta been any quicker about it?” Mick grumbles- Len knows, doesn’t snap back, just takes his husband’s hand and squeezes briefly before leading heading towards the rec area, getting a raised brow. “That ain’t the way out, boss.”

“Sam and Marc are getting Lisey and Ros, and we’re all meeting at the big glass,” he explains, the others’ eyes widening in comprehension and letting him push on, the crackle of static crawling up the back of his neck as they head further in.

Mick feels it, too, looks hopeful for a moment, but Godspeed skids into existence and his whole face darkens. “ _Him_ , Lenny?”

“I did what I had to,  _motek_ ,” he answers, knowing  _that_  will be a whole other talk when they get home. “What’s going on, Godspeed.”

“Jump wore off,” he answers, voice still buzzing, but not as hard. “I can still maintain one other- he’s doing another round now. Be here soon. Guards are still out, but the cameras are starting to come back online.”

Len nods curtly, lets Heart flash ahead of them and follows the trail of lightning to the open rec space, face softening at the sight of his sister and her partner on the other side of the thick glass with Marc, Sam, and August’s double.

“Mr. Snart-Rory.” He turns to see Amanda Waller herself standing above them. “Did you really think this was wise?”

They stare silently at each other for a long moment before Len gestures to Sam, the fire of the mirror gun muffled by the glass wall, the Rogues on the far side vanishing into the mirror before the closer side ripples, Lisa’s hand reaching through. Hartley takes it first, disappearing through, and Waller can only watch Len’s people leave her impenetrable walls.

“I got a question for you, too, Warden Waller,” he answers evenly, watching Mick pass through before he steps up to the mirror. “Did  _you_  really think it was wise to cross the Rogues?”

He only narrowly stops himself from flipping her off before he steps through to the portal to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are love!


End file.
